


Lines Between Love and War

by irisbleufic



Series: Meant to Be Here [4]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Absent Parents, As In Explanations Regarding Dirk's Past, Asexuality Spectrum, Banter, Bisexuality, But I Won't Tell You Who's Doing Which, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Past, Demisexuality, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Explanations, F/F, Families of Choice, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Government Agencies, Government Conspiracy, Humor, Immigration & Emigration, Jewish Character, Looking For a Case, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Memories, Naked Cuddling, New Relationship, Only Farah Couldn't Be Useless If She Tried, Past Abuse, Pets, Post-Coital Cuddling, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Protective Dirk, Protective Todd, Protectiveness, Relationship Negotiation, Sexual Experimentation, Slice of Life, Telling Off Shitty People, Touch-Starved, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: Dirk couldn’t stand to see Todd this way any more than Todd could stand the reverse. He drew the neglected handkerchief from inside his coat and used it to dab at Todd’s cheeks.“Wendimoorverymuch happened,” he said, “and for quite a lot of necessary reasons.”Todd cracked a smile and almost laughed. “Like setting solid relationship role-models for us?”Dirk nodded, realizing he hadn’t even thought of that. “If they can weather a war, so can we.”“Panto’s and Silas’s parents will do a better job of communicating post-clusterfuck than mine.”“Count your blessings,” Dirk said, tucking the handkerchief in Todd’s pocket. “Mine are gone.”“Wait a minute,” Todd said, pulling Dirk in by the shoulders, wide-eyed. “Your parents are?”





	Lines Between Love and War

**Who We Are**

Amongst several dicey factors in their post-first-two-cases encounter with Todd’s parents, Dirk couldn’t decide which was the worst. There’d been little to no reaction to Todd introducing Dirk as both his business and romantic partner, which was a huge relief.

The last thing they needed was to deal with anything so outlandishly backward-thinking as homophobia.

However, where they were in the present moment—after passing off Amanda’s extended absence as her having gone on tour with a band called the Rowdy 3, as well as breaking the news that Todd had initially faked his illness, but actually had it now—was wretched.

Todd’s father had left the living room in tears, and his furious mother had seen them out.

“Shit,” Todd said, sagging with his back against the front door and Dirk all but holding him up.

“They’ll get over it,” said Dirk, for once realizing how often he resorted to false cheer in dire circumstances. “I’m sure they just need a while to process. After all, Amanda forgave you.”

“Yeah, but she forgave me because she thought we were about to die,” Todd replied, fighting off tears. “If Wendimoor hadn’t happened, she still wouldn’t be speaking to me.”

Dirk couldn’t stand to see Todd this way any more than Todd could stand the reverse. He drew the neglected handkerchief from inside his coat and used it to dab at Todd’s cheeks.

“Wendimoor _very_ much happened,” he said, “and for quite a lot of necessary reasons.”

Todd cracked a smile and almost laughed. “Like setting solid relationship role-models for us?”

Dirk nodded, realizing he hadn’t even thought of that. “If they can weather a war, so can we.”

“Panto’s and Silas’s parents will do a better job of communicating post-clusterfuck than mine.”

“Count your blessings,” Dirk said, tucking the handkerchief in Todd’s pocket. “Mine are gone.”

“Wait a minute,” Todd said, pulling Dirk in by the shoulders, wide-eyed. “Your parents are?”

Dirk nodded, shrugging. There was no productive way of explaining that part of his past, not when Todd was so distraught, except—it _felt_ oddly urgent, a missing jigsaw piece. He'd have to take the risk and break his silence.

“I got the news after two years with—with the CIA,” he explained, loath to say _Blackwing_ given Todd’s instinctive, furious response any time it was mentioned. “I was about twelve. Colonel Riggins told me it was some sort of accident, that he wasn’t authorized to release any further information. I was disconsolate, but at least it was an answer. It explained why their letters had stopped arriving.”

Todd’s anger flared anyway, chasing every last trace of grief from his clear, red-rimmed eyes.

“You didn’t get to say goodbye? Jesus, Dirk, how long was it until—I mean, did you find—”

“I found out what happened to them, yes,” Dirk interrupted, desperately hoping to calm him. “I escaped—well, that’s the official story, but the truth is that Riggins let me slip away in the confusion surrounding the _actual_ escapes—when I was seventeen. I made my way back to London and investigated the matter. You might say it was my first case.”

“I can’t imagine what a headache the immigration issues must’ve been on top of everything else,” Todd muttered, pushing away from the door and into Dirk’s arms, like they weren’t pathetically hanging about on a front stoop where they weren’t welcome. “God.”

“Actually, Riggins has a reasonable head on his shoulders,” Dirk said, content to just hold him there, never mind that his right thigh had begun to ache. “He’d sorted out the renewal of my UK passport _and_ got me a perfectly legal US one. It’s how I hop back and forth.”

“Oh,” Todd said, sniffling into the collar of Dirk’s shirt. “I was worried about having to marry you fast to make sure you didn’t get deported.”

“Even then, we would’ve had problems,” Dirk replied, “so let us thank the universe for _massive_ bureaucratic mercies. Riggins owes me, and I'd be a fool to assume he doesn't know it. He tried to make things right.”

“Was that one of the guys I heard you argue with downstairs at the Ridgely?” Todd asked softly.

Impatiently, Dirk nodded, kissing Todd’s temple. He’d never tire of showing Todd how he felt.

“Can we please stop dwelling on this depressing nonsense,” he sighed, “and get out of here?”

Todd nodded, kissed Dirk, and let go of him. “You don’t have to tell me what happened.”

Dirk watched Todd’s eyes flick sidelong to the mezuzah on the door-frame. He waited as Todd pressed his fingers to his lips, and then touched the well-worn copper _shin_ on the casing. The deliberation in Todd's gesture was solemn and undeniably moving.

“You mean what happened to my parents, or just…everything that happened to me, in general?”

“I was referring to your parents, but same rule applies to the rest,” Todd said with firm resolve.

Taking Todd’s hand, Dirk tugged until Todd followed him over the road to where they’d parked.

“You never mentioned that piece of _your_ family history,” he said admiringly, opening the driver’s side door for Todd. “I learned so much about you in one thirty-minute visit.”

“Mom’s family left Russia before everything went to shit,” Todd said, exasperated as Dirk decided to crawl in before he did. “They’ve been in this country a long time. So long that we’re not super observant or anything, but you probably would’ve enjoyed my bar mitzvah.”

“I saw that one of Amanda’s necklaces was a tiny Magen David,” Dirk replied. “Didn’t want to pry, but filed it away as relevant nonetheless. Your trust means the world to me, Todd.”

Todd got into the truck, rummaging in his pockets. He found his keys and started the ignition.

“Amanda was always hardcore punk where I was alt-rock,” he sighed. “I’m sure she’s getting plenty of chances to punch Nazis with those guys.”

“Project Incubus are _ace_ at what they do,” Dirk agreed, letting Todd take his hand across the center console once they were on the road, “and have plenty of personal motivation. While we’re on the subject of family, I was wondering about your dad’s side. Plain old German?”

“Penn Dutch farmers for a century before migrating West,” Todd confirmed. “Plain as can be.”

Dirk couldn’t help but spot potential for teasing away the rest of Todd’s grief, so he seized it.

“Suddenly the whole Kansas thing makes a lot more sense,” he said, and Todd slapped his wrist.

“You mean you’re not gonna grill me about the part where I admitted I was ready to marry you?”

“No need,” Dirk said, shrugging as he laced their fingers back together. “Proposal accepted.”

 

**Where We’re From**

After the incident at the Ridgely, to which Todd hadn’t been party except for lurking in the hall while Dirk pleaded in the stairwell with two men that he couldn’t even see, this was Todd’s worst nightmare. He dropped the paring knife he’d pulled out of an attack twenty-four hours ago, breakfast prep forgotten, and raced through the office and down the stairs.

Dirk had only _just_ answered the door. Jaws, a hissing spitfire, darted between Dirk and the unassuming man in black who stood on the porch.

“Here he is,” said Dirk, conversationally, scooping up the agitated cat and slinging her over his shoulder. “You probably remember Todd—you know, from all that surveillance? Todd, this is Colonel Riggins. He popped by to see me in hospital. Not a hallucination, it turns out.”

Todd slid his fingers through Farah’s brass knuckles, which he now kept in his bathrobe pocket.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t punch you in the face,” he said levelly, tightening his grip.

“I ought to mention we’re getting married,” Dirk said happily, rocking the cat. “At some point.”

Much to Todd’s shock, Riggins made no move to take a step back. Instead, he removed his hat.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did, Mr. Brotzman,” he said gravely, offering Todd the folder he’d been clasping to his chest, “but I wanted Sv—I wanted Dirk to have this before I go. It's not right for me to keep it anymore.”

Todd glanced at Dirk, whose hands were full of fussy, attention-hogging cat. When Dirk nodded, Todd reluctantly accepted the file.

“You’re really lucky Farah’s in Montana for the weekend,” he told Riggins. “You would’ve had a Glock in your face instead of this angry furball.”

“Or Todd’s _not_ inconsiderable right hook,” Dirk added sagely. “Scrappy, but effective.”

Riggins, obviously flummoxed, glanced from Todd to Dirk. “You said you’re getting married?”

“Not like we’ve set a date or anything, but yeah,” Todd said, noticing Dirk’s increased agitation.

Apparently satisfied, Riggins appeared to relax. He offered Todd his hand, so Todd shook it.

“I have plenty of evidence to suggest that you already take better care of him than I ever could.”

Dirk’s sharp, tearful intake of breath was enough to take both Todd and Riggins by surprise.

“That—that means a lot, I mean,” he said, “under the circumstances, and coming from _you_.”

Riggins reached to pat Dirk on the side of his cat-occupied shoulder, which was a mistake. It earned him a claw-swipe so vicious it drew blood.

Jaws hissed at him, tail twitching side to side. All she lacked was a fin.

“Not a shark anymore?” he asked Dirk, managing a shaky exhalation as he studied his wounds.

“No more than I’m the name you used to call me,” Dirk said, edging closer to Todd. “Goodbye.”

With the front door decisively closed behind them, Todd didn’t say a word until he’d gotten Dirk settled on the sofa with Jaws in his lap and a cup of tea in front of him. He finished fixing the rest of their breakfast, painfully aware that he’d left Dirk alone with his Blackwing file.

When he came in with two bowls of instant oatmeal and strawberries, Dirk was thankfully preoccupied with murmuring nonsense to Jaws. The file sat untouched next to his mug, which was a bigger relief than it should have been.

“Not for kitties,” Todd said, shooing Jaws as he settled beside Dirk. “Did you know she likes fruit?”

From across the room, where she’d leaped onto Dirk’s desk, Jaws gave him a disdainful _mrrr_.

“I did,” Dirk replied, looking slightly red-eyed and fragile. “She stole a blueberry from Farah.”

Todd couldn’t look at him in that state for long. He hugged Dirk so hard both of them squeaked.

“How nice of that asshole to come around and dump off your traumatic past,” Todd seethed, “and then have the gall to act like he has the right to—to just _give you away_!”

“I appreciated the thought,” said Dirk, quietly. “After my parents died, I suppose he was…”

“That’s not how a responsible guardian behaves, Dirk, okay?” said Todd, bitterly. “Fucker.”

“Let me be grateful to him for what meager good he did,” Dirk insisted. “My choice to make.”

“Fair enough,” Todd said, finally releasing him, stroking Dirk’s cheek. “That…the name he called you, I…” He swallowed, encouraged by Dirk’s questioning glance. “I heard him call you _Svlad_ that night when I was eavesdropping. I heard Priest call you that, too.”

Dirk nodded slowly, seeming curiously detached. He picked up the file and offered it to Todd.

“You can look through this while I’m eating,” he said. “I’ll answer your questions. Less exhausting than me flipping through it with a narrative blow-by-blow, don’t you think?”

Todd couldn’t fathom the sheer generosity of Dirk’s offer, the complete and humbling trust.

“No, I don’t want to go through this until you’re ready,” he said, setting it back down. “But I was wondering about your name, if it’s…if you gave it up because it reminded you of…”

“I wouldn’t have minded if it remained a link to my parents,” Dirk said, stirring his oatmeal, “but it became a link to Blackwing and everything it stood for. Svlad Cjelli is dead.”

Todd turned the strange, sharp ring of it over and over in his head, until he remembered one of his uncles coming back from a press assignment in Eastern Europe. He’d shown Todd pictures of bombed-out buildings, even worse than the ones they were showing on the news.

“Your parents fled the Balkans and ended up in England,” he whispered, not even a question.

“Dubrovnik exploded a week after we got out,” Dirk said calmly. “I was about to turn eight.”

How Todd was supposed to feel like eating at this point, he had no idea, but Dirk launched right into taking several appreciative bites of oatmeal.

Todd picked up a piece of strawberry and put it in his mouth, unable to comprehend the sunniness of Dirk’s smile.

“I’m guessing some government official noticed something about you during the immigration process,” he ventured, his mouth still full. “The US was probably helping in a half-assed way.”

“Riggins was on assignment in London, chasing some other lead,” Dirk replied, thoughtfully licking his spoon. “Blackwing had been underway for exactly one more year than I’d been alive. He was at the embassy the day my parents had their interview. He overheard me calming another child by reassuring her that her parents would not only get their visas, but that they’d return in thirty-six seconds and tell her they’d take her to get a lolly for being so brave. Riggins watched it happen just as I’d said, verbatim, and then he came over and asked my name. He gave my parents his card when they finally came to fetch me, said he’d had the privilege of determining that their son was very gifted. That he could offer financial compensation in return for testing. Hard for a pair of frightened asylum seekers to turn down. It took Riggins two years to convince them to let him take me Stateside. He said I’d only be there a year at most, and that my education would continue without delay. One year turned into seven.”

“Dirk, I’m sorry I even…” Todd set down the bowl, his eyes stinging. “Let’s do this later.”

Dirk set down his breakfast, too. He reached for Todd’s hands, looking him square in the eye.

“This history is not just mine,” he said, “so I want you to kno—oh, _shhh_ , darling. It can wait.”

 

**What We Did**

Resuming where Todd had left off in the caretaking process, Dirk had seen to it that they finished their breakfast and made it back to bed with a clingy cat in tow. He’d begun reading off the small handful of email inquiries while Jaws, loaf-shaped on Todd’s chest, purred and butted her head against Todd’s chin every time Todd stopped petting her.

“Why do half of these people want us to investigate their allegedly cheating spouses?” Todd asked.

“Because that’s what most people think private investigators are for,” Dirk said, reaching over to scratch behind Jaws’s silky ears so she didn’t think he was ignoring her. “Here’s a nifty one. Cheating spouse, _plus_ the appearance of mysterious lights in the garden every time the wife doesn’t make it home until morning. Paranormal ramifications, or just paranoid?”

“We’re not the Ghostbusters,” said Todd, irritably, as Jaws stuck her nose against his mouth.

“Kitten kisses are the best,” Dirk said, reconsidering when Todd side-eyed him. “Next to yours.”

“You bet, because mine don’t include cat-food breath,” Todd replied. “Is there anything else?”

“Something about a building inspection for pests, from the realtor,” Dirk said. “Not important.”

Todd nudged Jaws off his chest, sat up, and leaned into Dirk so he could study the laptop screen.

“The realtor shouldn’t be involved anymore,” he said, rereading the message. “We paid in full.”

Dirk felt a wobble in his chest, but whether it was an inkling regarding the next case or sheer admiration for Todd’s cleverness, he couldn’t tell. It might even be lust on the same account, but it would be in poor taste to seduce Todd after such a stressful twenty-four hours.

“That’s definitely the realtor’s email,” Dirk replied, “whether she’s the one who sent it or not.”

“Yeah, looks legit,” Todd allowed, resting his head against Dirk’s shoulder, “but I cry foul.”

Jaws leaping onto the keyboard was sufficient indication that they should set it aside until Farah got home and could take a look. Dirk had never contemplated whether both Todd _and_ the cat might fit in his lap at once, but he was willing to let them make the attempt.

After a while, they dressed and migrated downstairs to the dining table. The worst Jaws could do was walk on papers and intentionally bat Mona, pen-shaped, onto the floor. Which she did.

Mona transformed a second after landing, limbs askew. “You found me,” she said. “Good girl.”

“Having fun baiting the alpha predator, are we?” Dirk asked, glancing down at her. “She’ll never learn if you let her walk all over you.”

“She walks on everything, so it’s impossible to avoid,” Todd pointed out. “Especially chairs.”

“Good afternoon, Todd,” Mona said, sitting up and crossing her legs. “Having a rough day?”

“I’m not gonna ask if you went through the file while we were upstairs. You probably did.”

“I memorized mine,” Mona said with off-handed cheer, winking at Dirk. “Riggins knows.”

“When she says that,” Dirk explained, “she means she’s memorized how to _be_ her file. If she needs reminding of something, all she has to do is transform and let somebody read it.”

“I don’t need to read Dirk’s file,” Mona said, getting to her feet. “I memorized that, too. I saw.”

If there was anything of which Dirk didn’t need reminding, it was the soullessly inventive means Blackwing had devised for the purpose of making Mona suffer. Special case, special treatment.

“Mona, how about you go on entertaining Jaws,” Dirk said, noticing, in the same instant Todd did, the sound of someone unlocking the front door. “We’re discussing what’s possibly—”

“Tevetino in da _house_!” shouted somebody in the stairwell, followed by Farah’s groan.

“Good job we have a guest room,” Dirk said to Todd, snapping the laptop shut. “Company.”

“More like a new roommate,” Todd said with trepidation. “I know how this shit’s gonna go.”

Tina jogged up the stairs and through the office with two wheelie suitcases and a huge grin.

“So, you guys aren’t gonna believe this, but some CIA dude called and _totally_ shut down the station this morning while we were playing beer pong with Hobbs,” she said, making the universal hand-gesture for _iffy shit_. “Kinda ruined our buzz. Anyway, once the spook gets there, I guess Hobbs is gonna help him tie up loose ends on the Cardenas house.”

“That spook is Riggins. He must’ve called you right after he paid us a visit,” Dirk said flatly.

Farah had intercepted Todd in the middle of the office and was hugging the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Tina stage-whispered to Dirk, jerking her thumb at Todd, “you got _serious_ game.”

“I heard that,” Todd retorted, but he’d made it his mission to restrain Farah from smacking Tina.

Dirk considered the chaos before him and decided that everything was definitely back to normal. 

 

**As Long As We Live**

Todd appreciated that Dirk had been stammering about taking things slow for the past five minutes, but he picked up the pace. Half the battle was keeping himself upright in Dirk’s lap and not letting Dirk slip free of him. He’d won the who-goes-first debate by pointing out that Dirk’s injury didn’t make him a great candidate for riding Todd at present.

“Todd,” Dirk said, struggling to breathe between frantic kisses. “ _Todd_ , you shouldn’t…”

“Would you please shut the _hell_ up and relax,” Todd hissed. “Fuck, do it _harder_.”

Todd didn’t have time to worry about the residual stretch and burn. Even overwhelmed and clumsily contributing, Dirk was better at hitting Todd’s prostate than Todd had been with a toy. 

Also, Dirk was about thirty seconds from a spectacular orgasm, and Todd wanted to watch.

“Oh no,” Dirk choked, blunt nails digging into Todd’s shoulder blades. “No no _no_ , not…”

“Shit,” Todd gasped, tugging Dirk forward until he could rub against him just right. “ _Fuck_.”

Dirk, somehow coordinated enough to get a hand on Todd at the last second, ruined everything.

 _Impossible to watch your boyfriend come his magnificent brains out when you’re coming, too,_ Todd thought half a minute later, aware that Dirk, shaking so hard that Todd’s teeth almost rattled, had withdrawn so he could hold Todd properly. _Noted._

“Hey,” Todd croaked, running his palms adoringly down Dirk’s sides. “How you holding up.”

Dirk swallowed and took a shivery breath against Todd’s ear. “Entirely flattered,” he managed.

“Flattered?” Todd echoed, wondering if language wasn’t back online. “You know I think you’re—”

“Flattered you could still want this from me when I made an utter _botch_ of it,” Dirk snapped.

“If you think you messed this up, you’ve got another thing coming,” Todd told him. “Wow.”

“It would’ve been better for you if I weren’t so—so fiddly,” Dirk went on, but he kissed Todd’s cheek, already calmer. “Too quick.”

“Don’t fucking care how fast we get off,” Todd mumbled into the curve of Dirk’s neck. “I love it.”

Dirk took a tremulous breath and nuzzled Todd’s earlobe. “You're so, so good for me I can’t _even_ …”

“Then I’m gonna do my best to return the favor when you’re better, okay?” Todd said, smiling.

Dirk huffed. “There _are_ alternative positions. I could very well just lie on my back and—”

“Dirk, I hate asking you to shut up in bed, but could you not,” said Todd, hugging him anyway.

“Leg hurts,” Dirk said, his sudden monosyllabics a sure sign of mockery. “Clean up. Nap time.”

“You see what I put up with?” Todd asked the room as he stumbled off the bed, in case Mona was one of the spare clothing items or socks strewn across the floor. You could never be too cautious.

Dirk was nearly asleep when Todd came back with the wastebasket and tissues, so it didn’t take long. They’d decided on condoms to cut down the mess, at least until their test results came back.

Todd woke up first, finding the room dimmer than when he’d settled them under the covers. He wondered how Dirk could sleep with his face mashed against Todd’s chest. Mysteries.

Downstairs, Farah and Tina were engaged in conversation—with a third voice Todd recognized.

“No,” Dirk murmured, trying to prevent Todd from leaving the bed. “Too cold without you.”

“ _Shhh_ ,” Todd said, careful to tuck Dirk in thoroughly, and then got dressed in the dark.

He’d scarcely cleared the mid-hall stairs when the brightness of the office greeted him with laughter. Zipping his hoodie to make a point, he stuffed himself into Amanda’s end of the sofa.

“You didn’t tell me you were in town,” he said, causing Farah and Tina to grunt when he gave Amanda another shove. “A text or something would’ve been nice. Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

“They’re fucking pissed at you, dude,” said Amanda, slinging an arm around Todd’s shoulders. “But _I’m_ proud of you. Sweeping out the demons and…looking after your man.”

Farah and Tina burst into a giggle-fit, elbowing each other like the love-drunk jerks they were.

“You were more polite about that than you could’ve been,” said Todd, grinning. “I’ll take it.”

With his usual timing, Dirk wandered in wearing a startling bare minimum of clothing—Todd’s boxers, his own Mexican Funeral t-shirt, and Todd’s bathrobe—before sitting down on the floor at Todd’s feet. When he put his head in Todd’s lap and waved at Amanda, nobody laughed.

“Hey,” Amanda said, petting Dirk’s hair before Todd could get to it, “my bro treatin’ you right?”

Dirk nodded and, in lieu of an endearing rush of words, reached up to squeeze Amanda’s hand.


End file.
